A Melody of the Moon and Sun
by Like A Dove
Summary: A wolf and a dragon cannot love one another. But the gods have different plans for us all. Zuko/Katara. A play on Lyanna/Rhaegar.
1. one

**A/N:**If the extremely lame and unoriginal title didn't give me away already, yes, this is a Game of Thrones/Zutara crossover fic. Since I can't seem to commit to long chaptered stories at the moment, and because I've been talking about doing this for forever, I've started this. Because I'm batshit crazy. This fic will be written in drabbles—short little bursts of writing, if you will. For when inspiration hits out of nowhere and I don't have much time to write the amount that I'd like. Updates could be three times a day or twice a month. I've been pretty unstable in terms of updating this past year, so if you guys don't want to come along for the ride, I totally get it. But I want to write, so here this is.

* * *

"His family had dragons, once. They say dragons blood still runs in his family's veins."

Katara's eyes swivel toward her septa. She narrows them. "Yes, hundreds of years ago," she points out. "Now they're all dead. And if he had dragon's blood perhaps he'd appear more reptilian, no?"

Her septa, the woman who is assigned to teach her and keep her in line, the consistent thorn in her side, does not even bat an eye and Katara's brash attitude. "You should not speak your mind so freely in front of The Dragon Prince. You should remember that one day he shall be your king," her septa politely reminds her.

"I'll speak whatever I like in front of whoever I like."

Katara is nearly positive that her septa is thinking about strangling her. And probably not for the first time, either.

"Just because his family's sigil is a dragon doesn't mean he's an actual dragon. Just like neither I nor my brother are actual wolves."

"And thank the gods for that." The old woman shakes her head and casts her gaze toward the gray sky, fighting a smile.

And this, Katara remembers, is precisely why she secretly likes her septa, despite how irritating she can be.

The chattering of the crowd grows louder as The Dragon Prince comes into view. He nods and makes eye contact with his people from atop his horse, strong jaw set in a serious line and broad shoulders squared. He looks like a leader, a _real_ leader, and yet…

And yet Katara is unimpressed. He looks like any young man around her brother's age, and he probably fights and speaks like them too. The only thing that sets him apart is the crown atop his dark haired head and the fearsome scar that he received from an accident when he was a child.

And yet he is the reason why she and her entire family left their Northern home and traveled here.

The prince's horse starts to pass her.

"What a fierce dragon indeed." Katara makes sure her sarcastic tone can be heard over all the others. Prince Zuko, The Dragon Prince, subtly turns his head in her direction, light eyes darting about in his attempt to locate her. When his gaze finally settles on her she does not incline her head down in a sign of respect like she is inspected to.

Instead she meets his stare fearlessly before turning around and letting the crowds swallow her up. Her septa nearly falls to the ground in her haste to follow her.

Katara smirks to herself. No, she's not very impressed at all.


	2. two

_You must be polite._

_You must be graceful._

_You must be merciful._

_You must always have a smile on hand._

_You must be clean._

_Your hair must always be well kept._

_Your waist must always be trim._

_Your life should be dedicated to your husband._

_Your life should be dedicated to the children you shall one day have with him._

_You are a lady._

Katara's septa has brushed her long wavy hair into one of the fancier, more fashionable hair styles of the South. Now the young woman stares at her ridiculous reflection in the mirror, frowning.

She finally lets out a sharp breath and immediately begins to pull out all the different pins holding the elaborate style together. Her hair topples down and about her shoulders, now even wavier than normal. It takes Katara's nimble fingers less than five minutes to maneuver it into a long, simple braid. She then tosses it over her shoulder.

She smiles at her reflection now. Much better.

Today she shall see her fiancé. She will be exactly who she is and nothing more.

And who she is is _not_ a lady.


	3. three

**A/N: **Sorry that I'm having to repost this guys. There seemed to be a formatting error of some sort when I posted this drabble originally so I took it down.

* * *

Katara's fiancé is a stag from the Stormlands.

She spots him before he spots her, and for a moment Katara heavily considers turning and walking away.

No. Running away.

But she agreed to this arrangement a long time ago. Her love for her father and her duty towards her family reaches further then then her desire for freedom. She wishes it did not.

When Jet finally sees her his eyes light up with joy. Something inside Katara stirs with a dull anger. He's joyous to see her? He doesn't even know her. Not really.

No one knows her. Not really.

"Katara," he greets, dark brown hair falling across his brow. "You look—"

Katara interrupts him without saying a word. Her curtsy is graceful and perfect, and for a brief moment she is a well mannered Lady of the North. Just like she's supposed to be.

He grabs her hand and kisses it. He tells her that he can't wait to marry her. She will become the Lady of Storm's End, he says. And she will be adored, he assures her.

She listens to him. She nods her head and smiles. She could care less about these lovely sentiments. She wants to hear about his war hammer, which he is famed for. She wants to hear about how he's supposedly fucked over one hundred girls, whores and high borns alike. She wants to hear about the men he's killed, in battle or otherwise.

But those kinds of subjects are not suited for lady's ears, or so they say.

There's a sudden commotion in the garden and Katara whips her head around, braid swinging. The Dragon Prince has walked outside from the palace, a young woman on his arm.

Zuko's own fiancé, if Katara had to guess.

A quiet moment passes. The Prince turns his head ever so slightly in her direction. They make eye contact. And then his back is to her and it is as if he hadn't noticed her at all. But Katara knows that he did.

She turns back to Jet, grinning. And her fiancé thinks her grin is for him.

* * *

**A/N #2:** A big thank you to everyone who has left a review so far! I love hearing your thoughts! :)


	4. four

**A/N:** Just to let you guys know, this is a drabble series. I thought I had mentioned that already but I must have forgotten, eeepp! I suspect that most of the installments for this story will be drabble length. Buy hey, that means for frequent updates! :D

* * *

"Unbowed. Unbent. Unbroken. Learn these words, Prince Zuko, for they are your soon-to-be wife's."

The future King of Westeros sits in his father's private office.

"I'm aware of the words of the Martells, father." Zuko's eyes droop a little with sleepiness. This week has been a long one, what with all the major families across Westeros here for his father's birthday, and it is far from over. If he could wish for anything, however, it would be for the freedom to sleep whenever he wanted.

Like right now.

King Ozai gives his soon a look of irritation. "Don't interrupt, boy." The two stare each other down for a moment, the king that they call Mad and his upcoming replacement.

And to Zuko's surprise his father turns his back on him, a clear sign of dismissal.

* * *

Ty Lee, his future bride, is too happy of a person.

Which is a horrible thing to think, really.

But it's true. She's jovial and smiley, and she jabbers on and on about water gardens and wine and her little brother and how she's going to miss Sunspear but is happy to be here in King's Landing.

And Zuko just kind of wishes she would stop talking long enough for him to collect his thoughts.

Right now he's taking a reprieve from her by temporarily hiding in the kitchens.

And while he's here he helps himself to an apple, a book open in his lap. The kitchen staff ignore him; this is an old habit of his.

There's a scurrying of noise as someone comes into the kitchens from the back door.

"Lady Katara," one of the servants say, and everyone in the room lowers their head briefly in acknowledgement and respect.

The Northern she-wolf smiles at all of them before making a beeline for the sweet breads.

Zuko watches her with sharp eyes. Her hair is in a simple braid, her dress is a worn dark blue and she walks with a quick, unladylike pace. She is different, and Zuko isn't wholly positive it's just because she's a northern girl.

And then Katara is gone from the kitchens, a laugh trailing behind her as she leaves.

And The Dragon Prince can't help but follow her.

* * *

**A/N #2:** Let me know what y'all think! Thank you for reading! :)


	5. five

Sokka is frozen on the outside and boiling up on the inside.

The letter from his wife is a little worn—perhaps the messenger went through some bad weather while they were carrying it. Either way, the paper is covered with Suki's scrolling, simplistic hand. Simplistic and straight to the point. That is who his wife is and Sokka's chest aches at the thought of her so far away from him.

Especially right now.

The late afternoon sun is shining in through the window to his room. But Sokka barely notices it, barely notices anything. The words Suki wrote to him, they echo all around his mind.

And at this very moment he can't collect himself enough to grab a pen and paper and start a reply.

There's a knock at his door, but before he can even turn his head Katara walks in and shuts the door behind her.

She looks amused. "I think one of the servants was following me. Can't say that I blame them. Everyone knows I'm always up to something," she jokes.

And Sokka only blinks at her.

She hands him some sweet bread that she had been carrying, and when he doesn't immediately move to take it her blue eyes go wide with shock. She quickly places the back of her hand against his forehead. "Are you okay? You _never _refuse food."

And finally, after a long minute, Sokka gives his little sister a massive grin.

"Katara, I'm going to be a father."

* * *

**A/N:** Thank you everyone for reading! Let me know your thoughts if you feel so inclined. :)


	6. six

**A/N: **Sorry about the delay in this update everyone. I got a new job so it's been taking up a chunk of my spare time. As always I hope you all enjoy and please let me know what you think! :)

* * *

Finding a private moment in the palace is practically impossible. And yet Katara manages to find one way in the back of the gardens after some serious searching.

Tonight she is to have dinner with her fiancé. And since she cannot avoid _him_ without causing insult, then she will spend her time before dinner avoiding everyone else.

_This is my duty,_ she reminds herself. _I promised father._ Hakoda is a good man, a kind man. Katara knows he'd never do anything to purposely make her unhappy.

Katara sighs, slumping a bit in the thick grass, not caring if she gets her dress stained. In two weeks she'll be shipped off to Storm's End and there she shall become a stag.

_But not for true,_ she thinks. _Never for true._ Something inside her soul will always howl at the starry night sky. She knows this.

A twig snaps and she's on her feet in an instant. "Come out," she demands, sounding bored.

And out he comes, hair perfectly trimmed and clothes perfectly in place. Katara rolls her eyes, not caring if she's being rude. "Aren't princes supposed to be gentlemen? I don't think stalking women is very gentlemanly, do you?"

"I wasn't stalking you," Prince Zuko says quickly. "I was simply keeping an eye on you because—"

"So you were watching me?"

"Well, yes—"

"So stalking me, then."

"I—no. I was not. I was just making sure that you were all right. You seemed—"

Something inside Katara stirs in anger. He feels sorry for her. She can see it in his golden, clear eyes. And Katara cannot stomach his pity.

"Well, Your Highness, I'm perfectly fine. I don't need anyone, including you, to follow me in order to confirm that. Now, please excuse me. I have a dinner to go to."

She brushes past him, not caring as much as she should whether she smacks him or not.

His fingers wrap around her hand. His grip is not hard; he releases her instantly, but Katara freezes in her steps none the less. He looks just as shocked as she does at his transgression.

And then he clears his throat, quickly muttering apologies, but she is gone before they can be properly heard. His touch is now nothing more then a ghost upon her skin.


End file.
